I am not yet old
I wear ballcap
I produce podgrift
I have bookdeal
My audience numbers are strong
My bank account has big numbers
My prostate shall maintain a steady size forever
I put steroids in my arm
I lift big number of pounds
Many people come to my studio-bunker to get a "Me Bump" flogging their shit during freeform conversations that can last multiple hours,
and yes,
people listen to multiple entire episodes without scrubbing through the timeline,
and yes,
I have metrics to confirm it,
but one time someone left a comment about how my windy monologues reminded them of Fidel and Trump,
and my sensitive secret
is that I get a lot of snarky comments like that
and that they always hurt me inside
I just don't understand
why anyone would dislike me
without being a robot
or robot-adjacent
I also have NFTs
I got a big numbered check for starring in a crypto currency ad
I got big number money coming in for my line of dietary supplements
I don't think the divorce has actually happened
I still believe I'll have another orgasm
My children are adequate
My son seems like he'll lift, but he's also kind of a video game dorko, which worries me, but drugs and meditation help me with worries
Daughter doesn't have much to say to me anymore
Other son has those defiance problems at school that cause my asshole to clench, like I keep seeing that shit spread all across Internet, but so far no one's taken a burning look, so I can half-relax
I wear ballcap
I am not yet a living punchline
My meditations mostly focus on willing my prostate to maintain steady size and shape
I feel like a living punchline
I know sitting is bad for me, and people make jokes on Internet about how didn't I used to be a stand-up, and now all I do is sit behind microphone and glower at some pop psychology bullshitter with a book deal or some asskisser comedy jerk with a Netflix (not so) special and/or podgrift to flog, tossing my salad for a Me Bump, and, yeah, didn't I used to stand up, but then I wanted people to know I read books, that I'm not just some clown, that I'm a philosophical conversationalist, that all those years eating shit in bars and nightclubs left me needy and uncertain even in the depths of my success 'cause most of my fanbase are gross dumbfucks I wouldn't even want to take an ayahuasca trip with, just give me your money motherfuckers,
but
I avoid saying those last parts out loud
I'm really into the faith-based something-something regime of attraction unintelligible big number money paper
I am not yet old
In a dream he wakes up too fast causing his prostate to come loose and go skittering across the lacquered hardwood floor and he gives chase but his prostate is free now
free to create cosmic distance
free to leave his ass blubbering and gibbering into a microphone
his prostate isn't his anymore
it belongs to Cosmos
watch it go
warp speed
bunker-studio walls come rushing in
